On the Precipice: the Story of Jeraud Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall
by meggleicious
Summary: A protective brother tries vainly to keep his family out of harm's way. They need to escape the Blight, to get out of Ferelden. Nothing will stop the fearsome Jeraud; not massive ogres, vicious dragons, nor hordes of darkspawn. Jeraud will climb to the top, meet his true love, and suffer staggering losses along the way - the worst of which being himself (Male Hawke/Fenris ship).
1. Escape from Lothering

_**Hey guys! So this starts out like pretty much every single Hawke POV story; I tried to make it as interesting as possible, though if you've played DA II this will be very familiar. The rest of the chapters will be far more individualized. I'm sticking as much to canon as possible – however, it won't be 100%.**_

 _ **I won't continue this if it's unpopular/boring, so PLEASE leave me a review! If I get follows/positive reviews, I will be posting a new chapter each week.**_

 _ **Thank you and enjoy!**_

All I could feel was the blood pumping furiously through my veins; a vital, frantic thud that pushed me to run faster. My breath came in short grunts as I maneuvered my way across the rocky, barren landscape; my lungs were burning, each breath feeling as if I was sucking in fire. The distant horizon was smoky, the landscape beyond blurry. Our home. That had been our home, and now it was aflame.

This didn't feel real.

I had halted my frantic pace, to stare at the view in disbelief, and my brother nearly crashed into me from behind. He and my sister, following closely on his heels, doubled over, sucking in wheezing breaths. I twisted around as Mother didn't appear for a few moments, my heart clenching with sudden guilt and worry – I had nearly forgotten her in my fear. I was a coward. I started to stride back, past my siblings, when she hobbled into view, coming from around a rocky bend, clearly worse for wear. I appeared immediately at her side, and she sagged against me, looking pale and tired.

"Mother," I whispered, my voice taught with anxiety. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"We – must," she garbled, her words slurring from exhaustion. She shifted suddenly, trying to stand on her own, but I held fast.

"Mother, please. Let me carry you."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but one look at my face seemed to stop her. She nodded sharply, her gray hair coming undone from her low ponytail. I bent down on one knee and allowed her to clamber onto my back; I shifted slightly, assuring her security, before turning to my siblings, whom had begun to bicker.

" _Why_ didn't we leave sooner?" My sister was shouting, looking furiously at my brother. They looked remarkably similar, as only twins did. Her bright blue eyes were even brighter in anger – anger driven by her acute fear. She was obviously scared out of her mind; it was easy to see in the tremor of her slender, pale hands, and the slight hoarseness of her voice.

My brother seemed not to realize this. "Me? Why are you asking me?"

There was suddenly a screech behind us; way, _way_ too close behind us. Bethany whirled around, whipping her hand up and bringing her arm down in a fluid, sluicing movement. A wall of fire burst to life behind us, and with a shouted curse I shot a few feet forward, keeping Mother out of harm's way.

"Jeraud, language," she snapped, rapping me slightly on the side of the head in reprimand.

This pulls a smile from me; of all the things going wrong, she would pick at my language.

"Carver, back _off_ ," I snarl a moment later as my brother refused to back down from my sister, who was growing pale from the energy used to sustain the wall of fire. Several darkspawn – horrible, rotting things straight from a nightmare – were groaning and grunting and screeching from the other side. Bethany couldn't keep this up much longer. "We need to get out of here," I get out, shifting slightly to keep Mother from falling.

Bethany and Carver fall silent, agreeing for once. Bethany meets my eyes with her gentle blue ones and smiles with gratitude; Carver's eyes were dark, and he storms past me to continue along the bottom of the small canyon road.

"Come," I say in a gentler tone to my sister, and usher her ahead. She catches my hand and gives it a squeeze, before running to catch up with her twin brother, engaging him in argumentative banter.

"They will never get along, will they?" Mother asked in defeat, her voice directly in my left ear. It was tinged with sadness, and it filled me with unease. No, I didn't want her sad.

"I'm sure they'll get along one day, Mother. Everything will be fine," I assured her earnestly, and I am rewarded with a chuckle.

"My darling boy," she cooes, before slapping my shoulder. I am relieved that the sadness has receded. "Let's catch up to them before they kill each other."

I obey immediately, my feet moving of their own accord. It was with ease that I navigated the rocky terrain, despite Mother's additional weight. She was so light, it was hardly a hindrance. The bubble of sadness is brought to life once more by the thought; she had been unable to eat as she should since Father had died. No matter what we tempted her with, she remained sad and small.

I catch up to Bethany and Carver within minutes, and in silence the three of us pound down the dirt path. Bethany and Carver fall back to flank me, and I am humbled by the trust that they place in me – have always placed in me. I will not fail them.

"Wait," Bethany snaps, halting suddenly. Her expression was cross. "We can't just keep wandering aimlessly. What is the plan?"

"We need to keep moving," I urge her as Carver paces irritably behind us, rolling his stiff shoulders. "As long as it's away from the darkspawn."

And from Lothering, our doomed home.

"I was thinking Kirkwall," Mother replies thoughtfully from my back, and I stiffen with surprise.

"Kirkwall? Are you sure?" Bethany asked, her eyes widening in shock. She looked so young, so out of place in this rocky, desolate terrain.

"There are a _lot_ of Templars in Kirkwall," I agree worriedly, my voice tightening. As if any Templar would get within a mile of my sister. My blood heats at the thought.

"We have an estate there, and family," Mother pleads, and I see the fight leave Bethany. It was hard for any of us to refuse Mother since Father died; none of us could bear her disappointment.

"Well, I guess we don't have much of a choice," she sighs in resignation. Mother relaxes, relieved that she would not have to fight her darling girl.

"Kirkwall it is then," I start to say, but am interrupted by the distant sound of clashing blades. My mother climbs off of my back, and I quickly whip out my bow, knocking an arrow expertly into place. My muscles coil in preparation as I slink forward, signaling to my siblings to keep behind me. They both behave; Carver quietly draws his greatsword, his brow creased in concentration. We round the bend in such a manner, and are met with the sight of a fearsome melee; two people amidst a horde of darkspawn, one with vivid, flaming red hair, and the other a soldier, fighting desperately not to be overwhelmed.

I clamber agilely to a rocky outcropping, and let loose a hail of arrows. My adrenaline is up; pulsing through me, pulling everything into a sharper focus, and a laugh escapes me as I see the darkspawn filth start to fall as my arrows pierced their fleshy, rotting hides. Bethany lets out a cry, and starts flinging fireballs at the mass. The two in the center don't look up as they battle for their life; the man seems wounded, limping slightly, though viciously fending off anything coming near the woman. I pause for a moment, distracted by the sight that was my sister, who was radiating a blue aura as her energy heightened. Her lips were curled into a vicious snarl as she decimated the darkspawn in her path. They crumple under her onslaught, and I catch two particularly clever ones trying to sneak up behind the warring pair below us. My arrows pierce straight through their soft skulls, and they collapse. Carver is a whirling nightmare, sunlight glinting off his ever-bloodying blade, and I am filled with pride for my siblings.

Finally, they are dead, and the man collapses, the sunlight glinting off of his steel armor. The four of us hurry down, though as we approach he struggles to his feet, his face set in hard lines of inbred, prejudiced hate.

"Apostate," he spits, glaring at my sister, reaching for his sword. A cold fury sweeps through me, and Carver and I close ranks in front of Bethany like a curtain.

"Wesley," the redheaded woman mutters embarrassedly, looking down.

"By the Order of the Templars, I place you under – "

I knock another arrow.

"First darkspawn, then Templars," Bethany says delicately. "The Maker has a sense of humor."

"Wesley, they just saved us. Surely the Maker understands," the woman – presumably his wife – tries again, and this seems to calm him.

"I – of course," Wesley mumbles, backing down. I also release my aggressive stance, though I keep my hand tight on my bow.

"So much for the wrath of the Templars," I say quietly, mocking him, though rage colors my voice. I hear Bethany snort behind me.

The woman shoots me a glare, and I try to soften my expression. It is not her I am angry at. "I'm Aveline Vellen, and this is my husband, Wesley."

"What are you doing out here?" Bethany asks from behind me, curious.

"Same thing as you, presumably. Running from the Darkspawn," Wesley murmurs, looking very pale. Both of them looked exhausted and blood spattered, though we did not have time for reprieve. From the distance, we hear shrieking and screeching and the chittering unique to a particularly foul breed of darkspawn.

"We never get a break do we?" I grunt, before running towards the writhing black mass of darkspawn coming for us from the top of the hill.

With ease and familiarity I knock and fire arrow after arrow, my arm straining from the speed at which I pushed it. I felt a vicious satisfaction as I watched monster after monster fall to the onslaught of my arrows, Bethany's magic, and Carver's impressive swordsmanship.

We Hawkes did not fall easily.

Once the majority had died, we sprinted ahead, the rough thudding of six pairs of feet and our labored breathing our constant companions. We emerge into a dusty, sandy clearing, Aveline supporting a weakening Wesley. His brow with wet with sweat, and his veins stood out in stark contrast. Six weaving canyon roads spread before us, and I glance over at Bethany curiously, opening my mouth to inquire her opinion, when the ground rumbles beneath us.

We hear a vicious roar, and out of instinct I push Bethany aside and leap out of the way as a massive, muscled behemoth darkspawn barrels toward us, its stout jaw straining against the rows of jagged teeth protruding from it. I jump up, and am momentarily frozen with horror.

The beast was heading straight for Mother. Before I can react to what was happening, Carver leaps in front of mother, his eyes blazing in defiance.

"You will not touch her!" He roars in a challenge, and the beast accepts it with a far more impressive roar, shaking its massive horned head. "Maker preserve me," he prays, before charging towards the monster.

The next few things happen as if in slow motion; Carver, his dark hair whipping wildly in the wind, suspended in midair, his sword heading straight for the beast's chest, and for one moment, I thought he would actually succeed.

I was wrong.

Time sped up again as Carver's massive sword clanged against the beast's armor, and he is quickly snatched up in a purple fist the size of a cow. Carver is crushed like a doll and tossed to the side, Mother's dismayed cries reverberating off of the canyon walls surrounding us.

"NO!" I bellow, my vision going red with rage. I see the beast's hungry, angry eyes focus on me – likely drawn to my shout – and it roars its awful roar in response. I let off a succession of arrows, and watch as they pincushion its ugly, pinched face. Bethany is beside me, her warmth guiding me, as she let off fireball after fireball, tears streaming down her red cheeks.

But arrows weren't enough. Shrugging off my bow, I catch sight of Carver's bloodstained greatsword at my feet. I pick it up and charge the monster, shouting out a garbled cry as I lunge.

"For Carver!"

I leap, and by some miracle of miracles, the sword just barely misses the beast's breastplate and sinks directly into the fleshy part beneath its collar bone. It flinches in shock, and after a moment, sinks to its knees with a thud that knocks Bethany off balance. I withdraw the sword with both hands, kicking it out of the monster, and quick as a flash, I drive the blade home through its skull. It falls backward, its arms splayed, as I whirl around to help Bethany to her feet. She races to Mother – who is bent over Carver – and falls to her knees with a heartbroken wail.

I make my way over slowly, not wanting it to be true, not wanting to see…to see…no. Carver…he can't die. Dying…no. This can't be happening.

"Carver, wake up. The battle is over," Mother sobs, clutching Carver's bloody, unrecognizable face. I stand over them, staring down at my brother, casting a shadow over the two women. His body is crushed, his ribcage a visible, shattered mess, and his glazed eyes stare lifelessly at the smoky sky above him.

"You!" Mom snarls, turning to look at me with her broken, disappointed, _disgusted_ eyes. "This is your fault! You never should have let him…" her words catch in her throat, and she lets out another dry sob before turning back to Carver.

It's as if she's stabbed me. The pain spikes through me, leaving me breathless with it. I bow my head with shame….with misery. My fault. This was my fault. Why did I freeze? Why wasn't I beside Mother, protecting her? My baby brother…dead. Because of me. I sink to my knees, burying my head in my hands.

Moments later, I feel Bethany's soft arms encircling me, providing me comfort I didn't deserve. I turn my head to lean into her shoulder and let out a drawn-out, shaky sigh. My fault, all my fault. Distantly, I hear Aveline and Wesley approach, though I am caught in my own personal nightmare.

"Mistress, allow me to commend his soul to the maker," Wesley offers weakly, and I tune him out. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Suddenly, as if electrocuted, I snap to my senses. It is I who should be comforting her, the other way around.

Plus, as much as it pained me, we needed to move. We are not going to survive here.

"Mother," I say gently, gathering my sister into my arms, squeezing her gently. "Carver wouldn't want us to waste our lives."

"You! Don't speak to me!" She spit, wounding me further. I keep my expression impassive as my insides churn with guilt. She's right. I should have saved him.

"We're too late," Bethany piped up weakly from beside me, her head turned to the left. Darkspawn were pouring out of the six dirt roads connecting to this clearing. I study my sister's face, as she studies mine. Her eyes are anguished.

 _Goodbye, Bethany_. I press a desperate kiss to her forehead and pull my Mother to my side. She grabs Carver's ruined hand, leaning into me and bowing her head. Wesley and Aveline stand silently behind us as we await the inevitable teeth and claws and death that charge at us. We die as one, at least. The thought is the only bright light, and it brings me a strange, guilty relief. At least Bethany and Mother and I had not had to suffer the pain of Carver's death for far too long. And we perish as a family; surely the Maker will allow us to find one another at his side.

There is a sudden, overwhelmingly loud roar that rocks the very ground we crouch on, and we dive to the side as a massive jet of fire appears from above us, searing through the darkspawn as easily as butter. A massive red dragon crashes down into the clearing, squashing the darkspawn about to converge on us, and lets loose another stream of fire. It roars, and picks up a darkspawn in its claws, tossing it aside. As it turns, its massive, armored, and dangerous tail takes out another line with ease.

When the darkspawn in the clearing were all dead, I slowly raise my head as it turns toward us, and my eyes meet its vicious yellow ones– they were surprisingly intelligent, but just as cruel.

Well, it was a better death than death by darkspawn. It had a far more noble ring to it than 'mauled by darkspawn while cowering in a corner'.

Steam issues from its scaly maw, and it beats its wings, stirring up the dirt around it. The silhouette of its spiky head slowly disappears, and when the dust clears, an old woman in an armored corset stands before us.

Her hair was a bright, vivid white, styled like dragon's horns. She wore a silver circlet that inverted sharply, allowing her nose protection, and her eyes were yellow and fierce, studying our group with a predatory stillness that made my hackles rise.

If I wasn't so numb over the sudden loss of my brother, I would most likely have been more impressed that she had just transformed into a dragon. I barely hear her as she speaks, her voice as ancient as the land itself.

"Nice trick, that dragon thing. Seems useful," I find myself saying, and she blinks, surprised for a moment. Then her eyes narrow, sizing me up. At last, she decides she is amused, and lets out a dry chuckle.

"Who are you?" Bethany demands from slightly behind me, her voice scared.

"I know who she is," Aveline speaks up from behind us. We turn to her; she is crouched protectively over Wesley, who had fallen, apparently too weak to stand. "She's the Witch of the Wilds."

The Witch shrugs. "Some call me that. Also, Flemeth. Or, Ash'ebellenar. Or perhaps an old hag that talks too much." She cackles, highly amused by her own wit. "You're Ferelden. You're on the run from the darkspawn. Won't your king miss you?"

"He'll probably miss his life more," I reply dryly, which makes her laugh again. The sound pleases me.

"Clever child. I like you," Flemeth says fondly, blinking at me with her strange yellow eyes before turning from us. Bethany starts forward in a panic.

"Wait! You can't just leave us here!"

"Oh really? And why not?" Flemeth asks slowly, not turning around. "On my way over here, I saw a most peculiar sight. A mighty ogre, vanquished. I was curious. And now, my curiosity is sated. What more could you want of me?"

"We're going to die here. We need to get to Kirkwall," Bethany implores, her desperation evident in her voice. I reach out to take her hand, pulling her away from the strange witch and back towards safety, back towards me.

"Kirkwall?" She repeats, facing us once more. We've caught her attention. She purses her lips thoughtfully. "I can get you to Kirkwall, as long as you promise me a small favor in return," she murmurs after a moment of deliberation, and from her neck she removes a thick, golden amulet. "It is not far out of your way. Outside of Kirkwall, there is a clan of Dalish elves; take this amulet to their keeper, Marethari, and your debt will be repaid in full."

I nod, reaching out to accept the amulet automatically, but Bethany stays my hand. "Wait, Jer. Can we trust her?" She asks in a small voice, her big, blue eyes focused on me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Flemeth smirk at the question, but I ignore her and clasp my sister's cold, small hands in my own. "We don't have much of a choice, Bethy," I murmur to her, in what I hoped was a soothing tone. I turn back to Flemeth, closing the distance between us, and extend my hand to accept the amulet. "I will deliver this as soon as I am able," I promise quietly.

Flemeth smirks again, but deposits the amulet into my hand. I tuck it away under my tunic quickly, before retreating back to my family. Mother is hunched over Carver, weeping quietly, and Aveline is crouched over the limp Wesley. The veins protruding from his face were black, and when his eyes snapped open, they were milky white. Something was wrong.

"Before we go, there is one more issue that needs to be resolved," Flemeth said in her gravelly voice, advancing on Aveline. Aveline leaps up, drawing her sword; her red hair is askew and she looks panicked.

"No. You will not touch him!"

"The disease that has entered your man is irreversible, child." Flemeth's tone is almost…sympathetic. Whatever disease Wesley had, it was the permanent sort. Her tone made it apparent.

"Disease?" I question the woman, who turns her yellow eyes on me once more. I drop mine almost immediately, respectful of her power, and I can almost feel her radiate her approval.

"Yes. The Blight has entered his system."

"And there is no cure," Aveline croaks.

"The only known cure is to become a Grey Warden," Flemeth corrects her.

"They all died at Ostagar," I murmur, sighing. My heart goes out to Aveline.

"Not all of them, though the last ones left are now beyond your reach."

"How long until…?" Bethany asks, her voice trembling. She goes to crouch next to Aveline, who had sunk back to her knees beside Wesley. Wesley had opened his eyes; they were a pale, milky white. I doubted he could still see, but they sought out his woman nonetheless. He reaches out feebly, and she grasps his hands in her own strong ones.

"Not long," the Witch replies gently.

I join my sister at Aveline's side, searching her face. "Aveline, he's your husband. It's up to you."

"No…you can't ask me to…" Aveline chokes, shaking her head in violent denial, but Wesley squeezes her hand.

"Please…I knew…when I saw all that blood. Please. The Blight is a slow death…I…can't," Wesley manages to get out. He reaches down and withdraws a dagger from his belt. "Be…strong, my love." A bead of sweat rolls down his face; he did not have long for this world.

Aveline closes her eyes in defeat, closing both hands around Wesley's. A single tear rolls down her cheek as, together, they poise the blade over his heart.

Wesley nods his encouragement, keeping his white eyes on his wife.

"I love you," she breathes, and together, they drive the blade home. It is true to its mark, and Wesley lets out one last gasp, his wide, unseeing eyes fixed on his wife.

I don't know how to comfort her, and I feel Flemeth radiating impatience from behind us. It isn't wise to keep a dragon waiting, though my heart was heavy. Two down, both men.

As it had always been. Men always seemed to die. Father, Carver, Wesley. I look down at my rough, scarred hands, and frown, wondering when it would be my time. Surely it was soon, from the trend.

"Come," Flemeth snaps from above us, her eyes glinting with impatience. "I do not have all day, and you have a ship to catch."

I stand obediently, and offer Bethany my hand to help her to her feet. She accepts it, heaving herself up and brushing off her white tunic, and releases me to go whisper to Mother. I turn to help Aveline to her feet, but she is already standing, seeming to want to get away from the prone figure of her husband.

"I'm fine, thank you," she says quietly, and with her head down, she goes to take her place beside Flemeth.

"Mother, come on. Carver…he…he can't come with us. We must save our grief for later," Bethany was saying as I approached the pair.

"Don't you speak to me of grief!" Mother snaps out, holding the limp body of Carver close to her. She was staining her robes with his dark blood. "You know nothing of it."

Bethany turns toward me, her young face wounded, and I gently help Mother up. The fight leaves her, and she holds in her tears as the three of us go over to Flemeth, who was growing more impatient.

I spot Carver's greatsword lying on the ground beside him where I had discarded it, looking alone and small. I take it up and sheathe it, saying a prayer for my fallen brother. I did not dwell on it, for I could not take the overwhelming, crushing sense of grief that threatened to bring me under – as it did with Father. Bethany and Mother were relying on me, and I would _not_ fail them. As I did for Father and Carver.

"Come, then," Flemeth says in her grating, raspy voice, and she raises her arms, looking towards the heavens. As she is returning to her dragon form, her voice suddenly echoes in my head.

 _Hurtled into the chaos you fight, and the world will shape before you. Is it fate, or chance? I can never decide._

I flinch, startled, and for a moment as I stare into the whirling dust storm that Flemeth had become, catching her blazing, yellow eyes trained on me. They were cold, curious, and calculating.

The next moment, the giant red dragon had reappeared, and was peering down its snout at us expectantly.

"She wants us to…ride her," I say blankly. "We're going to ride to Kirkwall…on the back of a dragon."

The dragon lets out a great, throaty chuckle before shuffling its wings impatiently.

I help Bethany clamber on first; she was very careful not to spear herself on one of Flemeth's spikes. Her face was set in lines of grief as she gazes back, and I know she is looking at Carver.

Mother takes my hand gingerly; she is still angry with me. As she should be. I pretend this doesn't bother me, offering her a smile as I help her up behind Bethany. Once she was seated, I look behind me at Aveline, raising my eyebrows.

"Oh, very well," she snaps after a moment, taking my proffered hand and heaving herself up behind Bethany and my Mother; I hide a true smile at this. Once the women were secure, I clamber up behind them, taking care not to stab Flemeth with Carver's sword.

"We are ready," I call out, and Flemeth grumbles under me in response. With a massive stroke of her wings, we are swept up into the air. She lets out a happy roar, seeming to enjoy being airborne once again. I lean forward, placing my hands next to Bethany's, keeping the three women in a crude semblance of a protective cage. I couldn't bear anyone else dying on my watch.

"Here we come, Kirkwall," Bethany hollers, and with Aveline's hair whipping sharply at my face, I squint my eyes and peer into the sunset we were flying into. Hopefully, we would be able to rebuild as a family in Kirkwall, and Bethany and Mother would no longer be sad.

How so very, very wrong I was.


	2. Descent

_**Thank you for the kind review. This chapter takes place amid Varric's storytelling, between them meeting Flemeth, and them getting on the barge that takes them to Kirkwall.**_

 _ **If you enjoy this, please leave me a review or a favorite/follow. This is the rough, unedited stage, so if writing is a bit blocky – my apologies. If this fic isn't received well, I will be unenthused to continue on. Let me know what you think!**_

Riding on the back of a spiky dragon thousands of feet in the air was just about as fun as it sounded; the jerky, rocking movement was one that you couldn't quite get used to, no matter how much emotional pain you were in. Every time Flemeth changed directions, my heart would skip a beat and I would lung forward and grab Bethany's arm, making sure she was still safe in her makeshift seat. After several hours of this, she started getting irritated with me and would snap at me, pulling her arm out of reach and stretching it dangerously close to the edge of the massive dragon. Which, in turn, made me frustrated and anxious and I would snap back at her, though feel instantly guilty about it.

Mother was quiet, her face set in lines of despair, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She was thinking about Carver, whom we had just _left_ back there. I felt terrible about it, but the feelings were dampening the more I fought them back and pretended like it had never happened. Aveline's eyes were also dark with pain, though Bethany and I's squabbling would often pull a reluctant smile from her.

"I used to argue like that with my father," she would explain quietly when Bethany raised her eyebrows at her after the third or fourth time this happened.

"Hey Bethany, your hair's a mess," I call to her, the wind carrying my voice away. Somehow, she still hears me, and twists in her seat to scowl at me.

"Well at least it's fixable, unlike your face," she shoots back, and I let out a whooping laugh. She smiles grudgingly, and lets out a shriek when Flemeth suddenly drops several feet. She lunges forward in her seat to wrap her slender hands around the spike located between her legs, going white. With her hair in such disarray, and her pale as snow, she looked absolutely ridiculous. I start laughing, and Bethany turns around once again to snarl at me. Aveline even joins in as Bethany's insults grow more barbed, but Mother remains silent.

I chance a look down after about an hour of flying, though my stomach churns in protest; we are flying at such a speed that the ground far _far_ beneath us is a dull green and brown blur, though it is a magnificent thing to behold. How many can claim to have seen such lands from such a height? Very few, I would wager. When I am practically green with nausea, I direct my attention back to the skyline, which is turning orange as the sun sinks low over the horizon. It's almost as if we are flying directly into it.

 _I wonder what Carver would think of this,_ I find myself musing, but I quickly clamp down on that thought. It had brought the dull, roaring grief back to bear, and bear it I couldn't. Not right now. Not when so much depended on us having clear heads. I let out a deep sigh, the steady thumping of Flemeth's massive wings finally making me drowsy.

"Bethany, do you know a spell that – " I call to her, but she cuts me off.

"That makes you less ugly? No, Jeraud," she hollers back; I can hear the grin in her voice. "I doubt even Andraste herself would even know of such a spell."

"Aveline, are you just going to sit there and let me take this?" I shout, feigning indignance.

Aveline lets out a coughing laugh; I am pleased to hear it, for when she speaks, I hear a smile in her voice. Surely her eyes must be lightened now that she is smiling? " _Don't_ pull me into this!"

"Anyway, I was just going to ask if you knew a spell to keep me awake!" I shout over the top of Aveline's head, though Bethany had turned away from me. "It wouldn't do us much good if I were to fall asleep and take you all off of the dragon with me!"

"No! Why would I know a spell like that?"

"What about a spell to make gold?"

"Magic doesn't work like that, Jeraud!"

"What about a spell that turns water into wine?"

"That doesn't even exist! I've had no proper training, remember?"

"What sort of useless mage are you?" I shout, hiding my grin. "If we're going to have an apostate in the family to risk our necks for we couldn't even have gotten one that can _do_ anythi—"

"Useless!" Bethany shouts, outraged. She releases the dragon's spike to wave her hand at me, and blue electricity arcs between her fingertips and my shoulder. The impact area zaps me sharply.

"Ow!"

"How's _that_ for a spell to make you less drowsy?" She calls triumphantly, placing her hand back on the spike. Her knuckles were white from holding it so tightly.

I snort. "Lazy. You can do better than that. That barely even tickled."

"You two are children!" Aveline interjects sternly, though traces of a smile still linger in her voice. "Is this _really_ the time for this?"

I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly Mother speaks up. "Jeraud, shut _up_."

I close my mouth immediately, feeling my enthusiasm deflate like a popped balloon. She turns back around – she had shifted to shoot me an icy glare – and for the rest of the ride, her shoulders are set in a stiff line.

The next several hours are flown in silence.

"Was Wesley based out of the Lothering Chantry? I don't remember seeing him there," Bethany calls to Aveline suddenly, unable to bear any more silence – I had lost track of time. I risk a glance down, and see that the blurred landscape beneath us is now gray and desolate. The sky above us is dark; we must be near our destination now.

"He served elsewhere. He was coming to find me at Ostagar," Aveline hollers back, and I wince. The pain had resurfaced in her voice, though it faded a moment later. "Were you familiar with every Templar in Lothering?" She sounds amused.

"How else was I supposed to know when to hide?"

 _Finally_ , hours later, I am jerked awake as Flemeth suddenly starts sloping downward; we were at last heading toward the ground. The makeshift saddle we sat on was surprisingly sturdy; the three women were still dozing, yet none of us had fallen. I cursed my own stupidity for a moment nonetheless, a sudden ball of anxiety forming in my stomach at the thought of what such a foolish mistake could have cost me. I reach forward and shake Bethany awake; she blinks sleepily, though wakes up more fully as she realizes what is happening. Her eyes lock with mine, and I'm sure ours were similar in excitement. Though the death of our brother was still heavy on our shoulders, there was still the undeniable temptation of the unknown. Neither of us had ever been outside of Lothering, excluding our flight for our lives.

Aveline, I realize, is also awake, and she is stiff in front of me, her eyes facing forward. She does not seem to like heights, either.

The trees seem to come speeding out of nowhere; and I find myself squinting my eyes as we fly through the branches, though it is needless – Flemeth seemed to be able to maneuver around everything without so much as a scratch.

We come to a rough landing in a small, green, and frankly, beautiful clearing. Wildflowers bloom along the outer ring, the trees like walls around us. Protective, but not restrictive. The canopy above allowed muted, golden light to filter through the leaves and create dappling patterns at our feet.

Flemeth settles, folding in her wings, and confidently I slide off, expecting my legs to support me – but they're asleep. So, instead I find myself facefirst in the dirt, Bethany and Aveline's raucous laughter a fitting cacophony to my arrogance. I grin, shaking out each leg at a time, before slowly and carefully standing up to brush off my dirty trousers. Once I am steady, I turn and offer my arms to Bethany, who clambers across Mother and Aveline to slide into them gracefully. After a moment of leaning on me to adjust to the feel of the ground once more, she goes to pace the outer edge of the clearing, her face alight with curiosity, while I help Mother down.

She seems reluctant to touch me, though my grip on her is obstinate – I refuse to let her fall, as I had. Once she is steady, I release her and turn to offer my hand to Aveline, but she is already beside me. She shoots me a toothy grin and pushes past me, seeming eager to ascertain that she is indeed on the ground.

There is a violent whirling of dust and grass, covering the massive dragon in a dirty, smoky haze. When the dirt settles, Flemeth is once again in her human form, and her eyes are bright.

I bow my head to her. "Thank you, my lady. We would not have survived without you."

"Do not forget your promise to me, young one," she warns, and I raise my eyes to hers.

"I would not dream of it."

"Where are we?" Bethany demands eagerly, coming to my side. Automatically, I put my foot in front of her, keeping her slightly back behind me. Though this woman had just saved us, I certainly didn't trust her around my baby sister. Bethany shoots me a glare, but doesn't try to push past me, much to my relief.

"We're just outside of Highever," the Witch says slowly, turning her eyes skyward. "There are ships departing for the Free Marches. It seems that this will be your chance to get to Kirkwall." She returns her gaze to mine; her long nails click sharply against her metal legplates. "Tread carefully, clever child." And with those brief parting words, she raises her arms and her hair is whipped around violently in the dust storm she summons. We back up quickly, and watch with awe as the massive red dragon takes her place. Flemeth rises with four pumps of her expansive wings, nearly knocking us off of our feet with the gusts of air they unleash, and takes off into the awakening sky.

After a beat, Bethany blinks. "Does anyone else realize how unreal of a day we've just had?" She asks no one in particular, dumbfounded.

I snort, before looking towards the edge of the meadow, scrutinizing the flowers in particular. "Well, Highever awaits. I don't suppose you want to stop and rest for a time, Mother?"

Mother shakes her head slowly, and ambles off to the edge of the meadow, crouching to also examine the flowers. She seems to have aged fifty years in the past few days; the death of Carver was taking quite the toll on her. After a few moments, she selects four flowers and picks them skillfully before returning to us. She hands out the flowers, and I try to ignore the fact that she doesn't look at me.

"For stamina," she explains at Aveline's suspicious look. Bethany had already stuck hers in her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. Mother had always had a knack for gardening, and a green thumb for planting. We had all learned to trust her expertise. Aveline took one look at Bethany, and look slightly mollified. She then turns her pale eyes to me, raising her flower slightly to me, as if in a toast. I mirror her gesture, a smile curling the edges of my lips upward.

We begin walking North, able to see the impressive Cousland estate through the thick canopy of the trees. I absentmindedly chew the flower petals as we do, though I was in no danger of running out of stamina. My adrenaline was up from the exhilarating flight, though the excitement was dying down as wariness began to take its place. It didn't help that my small group sounded like elephants in the silent forest; at each snap of a twig I expected to be swarmed by darkspawn.

As time drags by and the sun sinks lower into the sky, my agitation only increases. Bethany and Aveline had struck up a quiet conversation, falling slightly behind Mother and I, who still refused to look at me. It was painful how loud we were; I didn't want to become angry, but it was hard, seeing as we could be dead in a moment if we were not diligent. As we walked, horrible images kept floating across my mind; Wesley with his blighted skin, slowly taking his last breaths…Carver, charging the ogre, so brave and fierce and full of life…my father –

I cut off that thought abruptly, instead squinting my eyes to peer through the dense underbrush in a vain attempt to see if we were even going in the right direction.

Suddenly, something on the ground catches my attention. In the growing shadows, it seemed to be a log, but as we approached it – it turned out to be a corpse. I stop abruptly and kneel down, examining the armor.

"What – " Bethany starts to ask as she knocks her knees into Aveline, who had stopped when I did, but she suddenly sees the body and recoils. "Darkspawn?"

"No," I say slowly, reaching out to touch the bloody rent in his armor but withdrawing my hand. "Darkspawn don't kill this…cleanly."

"This is one of Cousland's soldiers," Aveline mutters from beside me, kneeling down to examine the insignia engraved on his armor. She looks up, also peering into the distance, and slowly draws her sword. "Come. I smell trouble."

I silently draw my own bow, keeping in a slight crouch as to more evenly distribute my body weight. Bethany flexes her fingers, and makes more of an effort to not step on every single twig in the entire blighted woods. The four of us walk for a few more minutes, coming across another body; this one of a young woman, half of her face cut cleanly off and laying beside her. The blood was not yet congealed – this had happened recently. Bethany makes a quiet retching noise behind me, and Aveline leans down to shut the woman's single, vacant eye. As we continue onward, the number of bodies we pass grows more frequent, and soon our heels are sinking into the ground, softened with the blood.

"Oh, my," Bethany gasps in horror as we reach the tree break.

The Cousland estate towers before us, looking as strong and indestructible as rumored – however, the door had been smashed in, and the expansive, once-beautiful lawn was covered in hewn apart bodies. Some bore the insignia of the Cousland family, and others –

"Arl Howe," Aveline says, her tone coloring with shock. She hurried over to one of the fallen soldiers, scrutinizing the insignia to confirm her theory. "Why would Howe attack Cousland?"

I glance to my left at Mother, who seemed numb to the sight of the massacre before us. I lock eyes with Aveline, who stands, and slowly we make our way across the silent grounds to approach the destroyed front door. It was so quiet, Bethany's labored, frightened breathing seemed to be echoing all around us; one could hear a pin drop.

We enter the grand foyer, just as thick with corpses as the lawns. It was more dense here, as if this had been a final stand of some sort, and it is quickly evident that there were no survivors. My mouth twisted into a frown, I reach down to slide the eyes shut of a sandy-haired man, one of Cousland's, who was surrounded my five of Howe's soldiers. He put up a heroic battle.

"Why are we here, Jeraud?" Bethany asks quietly, casting her eyes around the spacious, opulent room filled with death. "No one survived."

I heave a sigh. "I'd hoped the Teyrn had survived. Though, it is completely silent – if he lived, surely we would have heard some sort of noise."

"Let's continue on to Highever. We still have a three days' journey," Mother rasps from behind us, looking weak with exhaustion. Her gray hair now had streaks of white in it, I noticed with alarm. I nod, acquiescing immediately, and beckon Aveline out first. Bethany followed the soldier quietly, and Mother thirdly. I brought up the rear, keeping a careful eye on the house in case something decided to suddenly spring at us.

I did not relax until the cold, empty estate had receded from view and we were 'safely' back in the canopy of the trees.

"We will have to rest soon," Aveline says, shooting a concerned look at Mother, who looked weaker by the moment. I frown at Mother, but she smiles reassuringly at me.

"I am…fine. There will be many fleeing from Ferelden. The sooner we are on a ship, heading to Kirkwall…that is when we will rest."

"Mother, you can barely stand up straight," Bethany interjects hotly, her brows pulling together to form a sharp v. "We need to rest for the night."

"Don't argue with me," Mother snaps at Bethany crossly, plowing ahead of Aveline and me, her shoulders stiff. I sigh inwardly; this was going to be ugly.

"Mother you are too stubborn for your own good," Bethany retorts, picking up her pace to catch up to the spry older woman. "If you pass out from exhaustion, how much will Jeraud slow us down by carrying you?"

"Not much," I joke, though am silenced when Bethany shoots me an ugly look. Aveline shoots me a glance, her evergreen eyes sympathetic, though she stays quiet.

"I will not pass out from exhaustion. I am tougher than you think, and you mind your manners with me!" Mother snaps back, picking up her speed further, practically barreling through the underbrush. Aveline and I pick up our pace, catching up to Bethany and Mother with ease.

A screech suddenly rents the silence, immediately silencing their argument; five muscled darkspawn burst from the trees, their slavering jaws working and their crazy, mindless eyes focused on us with a cold hate. Mother skids to a halt – she had nearly walked into this trap. Bethany lets out a shriek of surprise, whipping up her hand to fling a ball of fire at the nearest darkspawn. The spell engulfs it in flame, though it keeps on coming at my sister until it had burned away too much for it to continue walking. I had whipped up my bow, aiming and firing an arrow at the one closest to Mother – the shot goes cleanly through its skull and it staggers back. Bethany finishes it off with a whirling flourish of her rough wooden staff, taking off its head. Two down – three to go. Aveline was engaged in a fierce swordfight with one of the larger ones; it matched her blow for blow, something horribly semblent of a grin crawling across its putrid features as it dodged and parried her attacks. Aveline rolled out of the way as it brought its massive greatsword down in the place she had been standing a moment before, and she ran at it, thrusting the blade through its unarmored ribs.

"That's for Wesley, you prune!" She snarls, twisting the blade in and watching the giant creature sink to its knees before falling at her feet, dead. Re-dead?

"Can't we talk about this?" I exclaim as a smaller darkspawn comes lumbering at me; once it was within range of the melee, I draw Carver's sword and slice its head clean off of its rotting body. The headless corpse topples to my feet, and the one on its tail also feels the bite of my blade.

"Come on!" Aveline shouts, breaking into a run. I yank Mother into my arms and take off after her, Bethany hard on my heels. "There will be more where they came from. We need to get out of here!" She calls back over her shoulder.

We thunder through the woods, running yet again. The familiar burn was creeping up my calves already; as long as we had gone without food or water, we were holding up well. My breath is short, though I grind my jaw in irritation and force myself to continue. Mother's deadweight was starting to feel like lead in my tired, malnourished, and now bloody arms – Bethany soon was neck and neck with me. Sweat streamed down her brow, though she did not complain; I did not think she had the breath to.

"Woah!" Aveline hollers, coming to a sudden stop after about five minutes of silent running, flinging out her muscled arms. I skid to a halt, and Bethany tumbles to the soft, grassy floor unceremoniously. We teetered at the edge of a sharp drop off; the bottom, when I chanced a look downward, was dizzyingly far away. I set Mother down on her feet, and she staggers away from me, going to help Bethany up.

"That looks like the only way down," I mutter to Aveline, gesturing to a skinny, stone stairway clinging haphazardly to the sharp gray slate. To slip from those would mean sure death. Aveline lets out a deep sigh, eyeing the dropoff warily, but nods.

"It seems so. I will lead, though it makes little difference. One misstep… None of us would be able to save the other."

I stare down into the valley below us, trying to make out the distant port city of Highever, and imagine that I do. Spindly gray clouds drift lazily below us, in the empty air. We were thousands of feet up.

"Okay…be careful, Leandra…there's a little lip here," Aveline mutters over her shoulder to my Mother, who edges carefully around it. My heart had been caught in my throat for the majority of the descent so far; Mother had already stumbled, and Bethany had nearly slipped. The rocky stairwell seemed to have been built into the face of the rock ages ago, and was too narrow to walk side by side. It was nearly too narrow to walk single-file.

Bethany mimics Mother's movements, stepping over the imperfection of the rock, reaching behind her automatically. I steady her with my hand, and she squeezes it gratefully. Heart thundering, I refuse to look anywhere but directly in front of me. It was taking all of my concentration to walk steadily, as distracted as I was by the possibility of Mother, Bethany, or even Aveline taking one wrong step and plummeting to their deaths.

Also, if there is one thing I hate, heights would be near the top of the list.

I swallow loudly, my legs trembling from exhaustion. We had been at this for hours, and the constant fear and anxiety was truly wearing on my soul. The sooner we reached the bottom, the better. Thankfully, the clouds were once again above us – though, the sun was slowly sinking behind the line of trees.

"Aveline, we must get to the bottom before night falls," I get out, my voice hoarse from disuse. The fear I suddenly felt was stifling; we would not survive the night. Not only could we not see, but we could not sit nor sleep. We would have to stay perfectly still…for hours.

And suddenly, the stairway trembles, little pebbles falling away from my feet and disappearing quickly into the empty air beneath us. I twist around as carefully and quickly as I can manage, and to my absolute horror I see several shapes lurching awkwardly onto the stairway, some falling off immediately.

My heart beats painfully from my Adam's Apple.

"We need to _move_!" I hiss, though I do not make any move to push Bethany, for obvious reasons. The Darkspawn were pursuing us; they wouldn't care if they had to stumble along the stairway blindly in the night. I honestly did not see a way out of this situation, save jumping to our deaths before we were torn in half. It was too precarious a ground to attempt to fight them off.

The stakes were suddenly driven far higher, with the snarls and the groans of the Darkspawn practically on our heels a suitable harmony with the ominous patter of the small pebbles our feet loosened on the rickety stairwell. One Darkspawn plummeted past us as he fell, screaming, and I whip out my arm to press Bethany against the cold slate of the canyon to avoid its flailing, clawed arms. Bethany's lip trembles.

"Let's go!" Aveline calls, picking up her pace marginally. Bethany and Mother follow in due haste, struggling to place their feet as surely as the seasoned soldier. I reign in my impatience with great control, though it was difficult now that the stakes on our lives had doubled.

The experience changed me. I had always been a hunter, like my grandfather before me, therefore used to being the predator. Feeling harried, unsafe, and hassled – these were alien emotions to me. Never before these past few days had I been the prey, yet this was an experience I was unlikely to ever forget. My senses were on high alert, and the feeling of hopelessness was growing. I knew our time was running out, that the darkspawn were catching up with us.

And I was powerless to stop them. Perhaps it was my time to die.

Just as the last ebbs of my hope had begun to train away, Aveline lets out a hoarse cry of relief. I crane my neck over Bethany's head to see her vivid red hair flash out of sight as she landed on solid ground. She turns and catches Mother, who had begun to cry from exhaustion, and sets her gently on the blessed, solid, immovable ground. Bethany cheers, her energy restored, and lands gracefully on her feet. I follow closely behind, feeling thousands of times lighter, and have time to manage one look at where we had begun…the edge of the flat gray cliff, the top disappearing into the wispy, gray clouds we were now on the right side of.

I did not have long to marvel, however, for suddenly, several dark shapes congealed on us at once, screaming, hissing, and snarling. I brace myself for the end; there was no way we were getting out of this alive. We were too tired, too exhausted, and I didn't even have time to draw my bow.

The darkspawn were upon us.


End file.
